Page 10 of The Beastly Bluestocking (The Bluestocking Club #7)

Arabella was in turmoil. She should hate Philip, she did hate him for how he had rejected her, but something inside her had softened when he had not recoiled from her, and not only that, he had kissed her wounded cheek. No one except Grace had touched that side of her face since the accident, and to have such reverence bestowed on it by the man who looked for perfection in all things was confusing the heck out of her.

Since they had entered the drawing room, he had babbled on about his life, almost without breathing it seemed as he rattled on, but it was giving her time to try to get her thoughts in order. The only problem was that they were becoming more and more confused as the minutes passed.

She had half expected Michael to follow them into the drawing room and was disappointed when he had not. That no other steward would have been invited to join them in such a private moment was irrelevant; she felt a little lost without his soothing presence in the room.

There was still more to make up to him because of what she had said about his position, but over the last day and a half, she had never been happier. Learning, stretching her idle brain had been tiring and invigorating at the same time, and she had jumped out of bed that morning, barely able to wait to start work with him again.

She had completely forgotten that Philip was due that day and had suffered a pang of annoyance when Sullivan had announced him, but seeing him had confused her. His cheeky smile and his warm greeting had reminded her of a time when she had no cares in the world apart from how soon she would next see Philip.

Then he had kissed her cheek. It had tilted her world. They had kissed often when she had been in love with him, taking advantage of any situation that arose. She now understood how close she had come to ruination; she had risked everything for him, and he had rejected her publicly. The hurt was still near the surface, even after three years.

But he was acting as if none of the hurt had ever happened, looking at her as if she was a normal, undamaged person, as if she was a beautiful woman. That tugged at her more than if he had come in apologising for what had happened. She would have been able to throw him out without a second thought, but he had reacted so unexpectedly that she had been thrown. To feel accepted as she used to feel was something she had never expected and yet for that moment she had.

“Do you have any children?” Grace intervened when Philip had finally taken a sip of his tea.

He shrugged. “Oh yes, three girls.”

“And where are they?” Grace continued.

“With my wife’s parents. They wanted them, and as I travel around because of my commissions, I accepted their offer. My lifestyle is not for the sweet little things.”

“How old are they?” Arabella asked. She should not be surprised that he had a family, but there was still a little pang of what could have been if things had gone her way.

“Oh, you know how it is, young,” Philip said, shrugging his shoulders.

Arabella was certain she heard Grace mutter something about irresponsible fathers, but hurried to speak before Grace challenged Philip more openly. She was shocked that he had not spoken more about his children, dismissing them almost, but deep down, she acknowledged that he had always been self-centred. “Do you paint them?”

“No, they do not inspire me in that way, and they would never be still.” The expression on his face was not that of a doting father.

For one who had longed for children and knew she would never have any now, to hear someone dismiss his own did not rest easy with Arabella. She forced herself to change the subject. “And what brings you to this area?”

“You, of course.”

“Me? Why? I am not going to commission a painting,” Arabella said, her posture stiffening. “If you think that, you have wasted your time.”

“You are and always will be the most beautiful woman I have ever met,” Philip said.

“Maybe in my younger days, I could pass muster tolerably well, but after the accident…”

“I have never slept a full night since I found out what happened.” Placing a hand over his heart, he tilted his head and looked at Arabella. “I will never forgive myself for treating you so ill.”

“Yet you did not visit her,” Grace pointed out.

“I could not. Call me a coward, but I could not bear to see my beautiful girl in pain. It would have broken my heart completely.”

“Or that you had been clear in your choice of life-partner and to visit Arabella might have threatened the alliance you had made.”

There was a flicker of annoyance, quickly covered, and he turned fully towards Arabella. “I would like to speak to you in private if you do not object.”

Grace was about to speak, but Arabella raised her hand to stop her friend. “I do not think that would be a good idea. We have nothing to say to each other that has not already been said.”

“You are wrong. Circumstance forced me to make a choice I did not want to make, but now I am free to follow my heart. All I want is a chance to make up for what has gone before. If nothing else, I hope we can be friends, for we were always laughing and enjoying ourselves.”

“This has been unexpected and sudden,” Arabella said. This constant reminiscing by him was making too many old feelings resurface, and not in a good way. “I think it is best if you leave now.”

“Will you not allow me to visit again?” There was clear panic in his voice.

“Come tomorrow if you must.”

“I will count the hours until I return.” He stood and bowed to both ladies, although his body was stiff when bowing to Grace.

Sullivan led him out of the room with as much civility as Grace had shown. Arabella sat back in the chair when the door had closed firmly behind Sullivan.

“Why has he appeared now?” Arabella groaned. Her mind was in turmoil. Yes, he was still attractive; she was not someone who could switch off feelings she had held onto for so long, but she was also annoyed with him. She should have sent him off immediately with a sharp set-down, but seeing him again had made her feel, just briefly, as if her life had not changed so disastrously, and part of her did not want to let that feeling go.

“Is it not obvious?” Grace responded.

“He is too early if he wants my fortune. Uncle is still very much in charge.”

“For now. You have said yourself that it is only months until your birthday.”

“And he could not be here for any other reason, could he?” Arabella asked the question wryly, but there was hurt in her tone.

“Of course there could be if he was a decent man!” Grace exclaimed. “A few scars would not put any person off loving you, I wish you would see that.”

There was a niggle of something inside Arabella. She had been treated as normal by Michael from the start, but he was being paid to do a job. That her reasoning did not sit quite right with her was pushed aside. It was far easier to find a reason to excuse the behaviour than to believe that he could genuinely like her.

“It does not matter. Nothing is going to change my situation.”

“Then why invite him tomorrow?”

“Just out of civility, nothing more.” But Arabella was not sure that she was speaking the truth, and from the sceptical look Grace was aiming in her direction, she did not believe her either.

***

Arabella found Michael speaking to one of the farmers who had sought him out. She had given herself a little while to try to settle her tumultuous feelings about seeing Philip again but now wanted to carry on with her learning. That she also felt the need to be close to Michael, she was trying to ignore, but being unsuccessful, she had mounted her horse and sought him out.

When she didn’t receive his usual smile when she approached him, she felt even more adrift. Coming to stand next to him, she nodded at the farmer, who was clearly surprised to see her but doffed his hat and continued to listen to Michael.

“I will sort someone out to come and assess what we can do,” Michael said. “I know you need the barn for calving.”

“Aye, it looks like it’s going to be a busy season.”

“That’s good, and I promise I will speak to Boyd the roofer later today. He’s working on some of the tenant cottages, but if needed, I can divert him.”

“Grateful to you, Mr Follett. Miss Betez,” he said with another doff of his hat before leaving them alone.

“I did not think you would wish to continue today,” Michael said, turning back towards the house.

Arabella took hold of her horse’s reins and fell into step beside him. “I have already said that I have wasted too much time.”

“Oh.”

“Mr Follett, I realise there is still ground to make up with you, but I am serious about us working together.”

Michael seemed to hesitate but then spoke. “I thought you would be tied up with your visitor.”

“Philip? No.” Arabella was strangely pleased that the usual easy tone was gone from his voice. Could her stoic steward be a little bit jealous? And if he was, why did the thought please her so much?

“In that case, we had best return to the study,” Michael said far more cheerily than when she had first approached him.

“Lead on, taskmaster.”

Hours later, Arabella insisted that Michael join herself and Grace for their evening meal. They had both spent far too much time deep in concentration, going over everything that Arabella might need to know, and she wanted to repay his hard work and patience. That and she was not quite ready to say goodnight to him.

“I know you probably wish to collapse after such a long day, but please join us. I am sure Grace will want to quiz you about what kind of a student I am being.”

Michael laughed. “I cannot complain about your commitment to work. I have never answered so many questions in a single day in my entire working life.”

“I am glad that I am able to keep you on your toes.”

On entering the drawing room, Arabella was inordinately pleased that Michael had dressed for dinner. His clothing might not be of the finest cut, but his outfit was smart and neat and clung to his body in the most appealing way.

Grace smiled at her. “You are looking fine tonight, Arabella. Are we expecting guests?”

“No,” Arabella answered. She had dressed with unusual care and did not wish to examine her reasons why. Her favourite colour was yellow and all variations of it. She had chosen a pale lemon gown with short puff sleeves, all edged in white lace. It subtly contrasted with her skin, which was becoming a healthier tone after the last few days of being out and about with Michael. She wore her hair up but with a large swathe of long curls lying over her shoulder, providing a natural distraction and concealment of the scars.

Sullivan handed her a glass of sherry, and she sat on one of the chairs. “I feel I have abandoned you these last days,” she said to Grace.

“Not at all. I have plenty to occupy me, and it is also nice to have no demands on one’s time. It has been quite refreshing.”

“There is no fear of my having any time to myself. Mr Follett is relentless with the speed at which he works.” Arabella smiled at Michael. “I will certainly sleep at night, but I am sure I will dream about income and outgoings.”

“You have taken everything in your stride, that is why we are covering so much. I think a trip around the estate and tenanted farms and cottages is in order tomorrow if you have time?”

Arabella felt the usual sense of dread at needing to show herself to people, but there had been nothing to worry about today or the day she had visited the farm. Taking a steadying breath, she nodded at Michael. “If after luncheon works with your schedule, then I would happily accompany you.”

The smile she received from Michael was enough to dispel any doubts she had. “I will fit in with your requirements. You are going to make a lot of people very happy tomorrow; everyone asks about you and speaks about you with genuine affection.”

“I hope they are not disappointed.”

“How could they be? Their mistress is taking an interest in their lives. That is all many of them have wanted these last few years.”

“If only it was that simple,” Arabella said quietly, but she had committed to looking after those under her care, and she was going to do it. She need no longer worry about dreaming of ledgers; she would probably spend half the night afraid of what people would think of her.